Moreil rested on one knee before the Chaos-Bringer. He could hardly believe he was in the presence of such a person. He could see now why his Dark Masters had chosen such a one to be the inheritor of their legacy. Truly, this one had been blessed by them from the moment of his birth.
'You are Moreil,' the Chaos-Bringer said. 'Of the Z'shailyl.'
'Yes, lord.'
'Why were you with the Brotherhood? What were you seeking?'
'You, lord.'
The Chaos-Bringer said nothing. The silence was heavy and oppressive and Moreil continued speaking. 'We knew.... all of us knew. When the Dark Masters departed, they offered us the chance to accompany them and serve them in the next world. The Drakh chose to follow. The Zarqheba chose to remain.
'My people, we were unsure. Many wished to leave and remain with our Masters. Some objected that if everyone went, who would pursue the cause of Sacred Chaos here? Surely this galaxy was still important. The Accursed Lords of Order remained. Could they be allowed to triumph? Our Masters must have had their reasons of course, and it is not for us to question.'
'And?'
'We concluded this was both a test, and a trap. A test of us, to determine our worth. Could we endure and pursue our cause without their benevolent shadow over us? Had we learned enough to conclude their war?
'And a trap. The Lords of Order would become complacent and weak. There would be weaknesses and opportunities and advantages to be claimed. We would hide and work ourselves into the warp and weave of the galaxy and we would take our chance.
'Some of our people did pass beyond to be with the Masters. The rest of us remained. Some went amongst the Drazi and began to exert influence there. Some became assassins in the shadows of the worlds, shrouded from the eyes of mortals. Others went to Narn, to bargain with their leaders. Some went to search the galaxy for hidden allies and lost relics.
'I and those who follow me came here, to join the disaffected and the rebels. We would become visible. We would sow chaos and misery according to our creed. They would seek to use me, but I could not be used. I did not care about power or wealth or pain or any of their dreams.
'I knew that if we acted boldly enough, if we were visible and clear, you would come to find us. Some of us went to look for you, but I knew that would fail. You would find us when we were worthy of your leadership.
'Lord, you are the last legacy of what our Masters have left us. Permit me to serve you and I shall issue the call to my brethren. Those who remain will flock to your banner and we shall bring down the Lords of Order and fill the galaxy with chaos.'
Moreil finished. There was another long silence from his lord, and for the first time doubt began to creep into Moreil's mind. Was he truly worthy? Had he done enough to advance the cause of chaos? Had he been too presumptuous, too arrogant? Would the Chaos-Bringer even desire his service?
Finally, he spoke.
'We are at war. All of us — not just my people, or yours, but all peoples, everywhere in the galaxy. We must all unite to fight this war.
'You will obey me. Utterly. You and all your people.'
'Of course, lord,' Moreil said, his heart leaping. 'We are yours to command.'
'Then rise. You cannot serve me on your knees.'
He could feel it in the air, the thick and heavy scent of death. He could also feel the fear that coursed through the people he passed. There was a heartening amount of disbelief and optimism, but for every bravo convinced it would never happen there were two nervous and frightened people staring up into the sky.
Lennier, once of Minbar, once of the Third Fane of Chudomo, once a Ranger, knew what would happen. He felt a great deal of fear himself, but it was not coming from him. The voice in his mind, the one he had fought and struggled against for years.... it was afraid.
'Yes,' Lennier said simply. 'We are.'
'What we want rarely matters.'
Ta'Lon was safe anyway, or so Lennier hoped. He hoped the big Narn had managed to get off-world. Ta'Lon had expected some sort of retaliatory strike for his Government's alliance with the Shadows — albeit nothing like this — and he would have gone to seek allies.
Lennier was glad he did not have to see Ta'Lon's face when he learned what was being done to his home.
He wandered idly, drifting here and there. He had spent a year on this world, watching and studying and hiding at G'Kar's behest, and he had come to know the place well. It was not his home, and it never would be. He did not have a home any more.
And he never would again.
His past seemed as hollow and empty as his future now would be. When he looked back, he tried to recall a single aspect of the universe that had been better for his existence. There was nothing. His life had enriched nothing and no one and there would be no one to notice he was gone. He had known few friends, and those he had would have forgotten him by now.
Ta'Lon was not a friend, just an ally. Delenn had been.... a bad memory. G'Kar a leader and a voice but not a friend. Londo....
Londo. He had been a friend. If he could go back to any part of his life, Lennier would have spent forever living those few months when he and Londo and Delenn were engaged on an impossible quest.
But Londo would have forgotten him by now. He was an Emperor without an Empire, a man trapped and bound by his own power. Lennier had heard about the heart attack. He hoped Londo would never wake up. Better death, even the living death of a coma, than to see the galaxy become like this.
No one to remember him. No one to acknowledge him. He had lived and served in the shadows and in the shadows he would die.
He walked, with no rhyme or reason or purpose, just to pass the time until the end. He saw people he recognised. An old man, obviously a former soldier, fist raised against the sky. A young girl, frantically searching for her mother. Others.
Many of them were moving about, moving quickly. He followed them, if for no other reason than to see where they were going, and found himself in the main square of the city.
Above them, a giant hologram of G'Kar appeared. Many of the Narns wept when they saw the image. Lennier only stared impassively. There were no illusions, no disguises. G'Kar looked weak and haunted. His right eye socket was a mass of raw flesh, and the bloodstains were only just drying on his tunic.
Still, he looked like a leader. Even as a hologram, his charisma and force of presence shone through.
'My people,' the voice began. 'My people, we have a great task ahead of us, and a great purpose as well. Our duty is no less than to ensure the survival of our race....'
At first she did not believe it. Delenn would not really accept what had happened until the first witnesses came to Babylon 5, burning with anger and grief and a terrible desire for revenge. It all seemed so.... horrible.
Except somehow she had known that something bad was happening.
She had been thinking about John, of course. He had seemed so awkward and unsure the last time he had seen her. He had left for Minbar to find David. Taking a holiday.
Without her.
Once she had loved him more than she had thought possible. At one time, he had filled her mind and her vision. She had dreamed of the two of them creating a new order, making the galaxy a better and newer and finer place.
Once she had known a love so great it seemed to burn her. Now their relationship had become cold and barren. He was like a block of ice in their bed. They never kissed, or touched.
